| ⚪ | [Mon. 27th cont.] | The pilot is a real Yank, and everything is “I guess”. “The bar”, he says, “I guess, will wash your things about a little”. This has yet to be experienced. By what I can hear, it seems a very bad spot. We are 25 miles off the entrance. It continued to blow very hard all night, and all the morning we were hove to till about 10 a.m. The glass was falling, and it was a certain gale coming on. It was either to stay and face it or attempt the bar. We decided upon the latter. We headed direct for the bar. The pilot set all sail so as to help her over. He was keeping watch in the fore top. The other ship remained outside. The water suddenly changes colour, and the two different colours are very marked. Then comes the “Bar”. Oh that bar. We had some bucket racks on the poop. The pilot saw them and he turned round to the Old Man. First of all he was a genuine Yank. “Say boss, d'ue want to see these rack again?” “Certainly” said the old man. “Well I guess if they are shifted by the hand of man they will by the hand of God in about two shakes of a lambs tail, and that isn't long.” They were immediately shifted. It took six of us to hold the wheel. I was steering. All the rest, Pilot and Captain included, were up aloft. The sea was enormous and when we got on top of a wave we were sent spinning along like an express. They were right away above us, and came thundering down on us with terrific force. Every minute I expected to be washed overboard. They all broke. The second one that came aboard completely demolished the entire wheel box, gratings, skylight, and bent the rail into all shapes, and rushed along the poop and poured down on the main deck. When the ship rose, you could see the water pouring off over her rails the whole length of her. In quarter of an hour we were through, and in safety. We droped anchor at 12 off Astoria. | |
| Tuesday, 28th | Blowing a terrible gale, rain and hail squalls continually. The other ship is not expected to arrive now for a fortnight. It is a treat to be able to turn in bunk for a whole night. Received nineteen letters. | ||
| MARCH 1899 | |||
| Astoria is an island, and is covered with the usual pine trees. Some of them rising for 200 feet without a limb. The houses are all built on props and painted red, blue, yellow, green, pink and in fact all the most hidgeous colours imaginable. | |||
| Thursday, 2nd | Left Astoria at noon in tow with the Emma Hayward for Portland. The scenery is beyond words. The huge mountains coming right down the river banks, and all densly covered with enormous pines. The tops of the mountains all snow. The railway runs along the edge of the mountains and you almost expect to see it coming down with a crash to still silent river below. The creeks are occupied with salmon canneries. We droped anchor at 8 p.m. The stern wheeler going away for wood. We are 210 miles from Astoria. | ||
| ⚪ | Friday, 3rd | Towing up river all day. It is magnificent. The wild scenery is supurb. The river is rushing down at around 6 knots, carrying along with it enormous stumps of trees. 8 p.m. Ran ashore four miles from the mouth of the [- ? -] About midnight after a lot of trouble we got towed off and droped anchor. Next morning two stern wheelers had to take us and we went straight alongside. Moored ship at 3.45 p.m. Saturday, 4th February. | |
| “Links” | |||
| The journal breaks off here and resumes on 26 January 1900 with the voyage from Majorca to Leith. | |||
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